Shamrock Shenanigans (Zoe Donovan Mystery Book 19) by Kathi Daley Page A

your body when you were drunk. If it wasn’t you, who was it?”
    “I didn’t literally mean it wasn’t me. I just meant that—” I stopped as it suddenly hit me. I totally got what Millie was trying to say. “It was me. Drunk Zoe was me; it just wasn’t a part of me that I allowed to come out very often. Not at all, really, since I was a teenager.”
    “Exactly. Alcohol lowered your inhibitions and allowed Crazy Zoe to strut her stuff for a few hours. The thing is, Crazy Zoe is always there. She’s a part of who you are even if you normally suppress her.”
    Wonderful. Just what I needed: a crazy alter ego waiting to burst forth the moment my inhibitions were lowered.
    “Okay, I get what you’re saying, but I don’t give my crazy side its own name, and I remember what she did and said. Usually.”
    Millie laughed. “Don’t worry; your energy is pure and free of fractures. While most people manage to find congruency between their selves, there are those, like me, who struggle with that congruency, due, usually, to some sort of childhood trauma. I was badly abused as a child, and carefree Molly, who finds fun in any situation, even the most gruesome and painful, was my way of coping. If things got too intense Molly would take over until things settled down a bit. I’ve known of Molly’s existence for quite some time. We’ve learned to coexist, although I do believe we have additional work to do to really find seamlessness. But that’s a heavy subject, for another day. For now, just be assured that I didn’t kill Brent and I’d bet my reputation on the fact that the man who died didn’t make a living in Hollywood.”
    Well, that conversation certainly had turned out to be different than I was expecting. I spoke to Millie a while longer about her work with law enforcement and the crimes she’d helped solve. It really was fascinating to realize that someone could find a kidnapped child simply by holding an item belonging to that child. I supposed Millie was like a bloodhound who just needed a sniff to find the scent.
    I hoped I’d have more time to chat with this fascinating woman before we left the castle, but Zak was waiting for me, so I said my good-byes and headed back to our room. Millie had given me quite a lot to think about. Too much. It felt like my head was going to explode.
    By the time I got to the room Zak was back as well.
    “How’d it go?” he asked.
    “You first. I’m still trying to process everything.”
    “Okay.” Zak sat down on the edge of the bed. “As I already told you, Drew confirmed that she was sent here by her editor to do a fluff piece on the murder mystery weekend in an effort to promote the idea to large companies looking for a unique corporate retreat. She also said she was unhappy with the assignment because she’s been working hard to establish herself as a serious journalist; doing that kind of piece wasn’t going to help her career in the least.”
    “Did she mention why, out of all the journalists in the world, she was chosen for that assignment?” I asked.
    “She said her boss knows Lord Dunphy somehow, and he’d promised him coverage of the weekend as a favor. She’s convinced her boss singled her out because he feels threatened by her aggression and wanted to knock her down a peg or two.”
    “Yikes.”
    “Yeah, yikes. Anyway, she also admitted that while she felt bad that a man was dead, she was over-the-moon hyped about being in the right place at the right time to nail this story. She seems to think it might be just what she needs for national exposure.”
    “So she has a lot to gain by Brent’s death.”
    “She does, if she can figure out what’s going on. At this point she’s as lost and confused as the rest of us. She also has an alibi. She told me that she left the cocktail reception after dinner last night because she had a headache and wanted to take some aspirin. She said she went to the kitchen for a glass of milk to coat her stomach